


The Moustache Quest

by Kayleana



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, keeping secrets - Fandom
Genre: Crack Fiction, M/M, Not Serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 17:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayleana/pseuds/Kayleana
Summary: Eugene runs off to take a nap, but his dream is a bit...hairy.





	The Moustache Quest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElvenSemi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenSemi/gifts).



You pull your sword out of the terror demon. Green blood spurts out of the wound, and the demon screeches like a fucking nug in heat. (Which is what you think you heard behind the kitchens as you were looking for a place to nap earlier.) As the demon dissipates, you notice a moustache beneath it’s…well, whatever. Demons don’t have moustaches, especially glorious well groomed ones that twirl. The long days at the war table are getting to your head.

A yellow brick path aligned with crystal grace arises from the ground as you turn away from the demon. Cassandra stands at the end of it, white flowers decorating her hair. As she waves, a brilliant red moustache sprouts beneath her nose.

“That doesn’t even match your hair,” you cry out.

Cassandra begins disappearing.

“You’re still beautiful, though!” You run towards her.  Her moustache is the last thing to poof out of existence.

Blood oozes from the bricks beneath your feet. Wooden walls grow out of the ground. As you back away, you slip and fall, hitting the back of your head on a dresser. You check your head for blood.

“You okay, boss?”

“Fuck.” You jump to your feet. “Bull, what are you doing here?”

“Grooming.”

Bull is standing in front of a mirror, grooming his pink moustache with a comb. He places the comb on the vanity and moves closer to the mirror. He puckers and pops his lips a few times and winks at you.

“Can Qunari even grow a moustache,” you ask.

Bull laughs. “You don’t know much about Qunari, do you?”

“No,” you say, admittedly.

“Well, I could show you if you’d like.”

You look down at your wrists, which are now bound with dark hair. “You know what? I have to go take a piss. Yeah. A big piss.”

Bull towers over you. “What’s the password?”

“The password?”

Bull gestures towards a small door by the vanity. The door is no bigger than your foot. “The password.”

“Fuck if I know the password.” You really do have to pee now.

“You better hurry.” Bull slowly disappears the way Cassandra had earlier.

“Wait, my wrists…” Your wrists are no longer bound. Small hairs rain from the ceiling and prick your arms. You run towards the small door. _Fuck, what’s the password._ “Bricks, swords, demons, Cassandra, pudding…” _Shit shit shit._ “Hair, grooming…moustache!”

The door opens. You close your eyes.  Somehow you fit through the door, although you don’t remember how. As you open your eyes, white light floods your vision. You’re standing on Vivienne’s balcony.

“Oh, darling, you look awful.” Vivienne sashays over from the balcony door and looks you up and down. “We must have them find you a change of clothes. We can’t have our Inquisitor running around like a woolly mammoth.”

“A what?”

“Oh, darling. I forgot that you were always terrible with history. No matter, we must…”

“YEEEEEEEEEE.”

You look up to find Sera, with the bushiest blonde mustache, flipping off the roof and past Vivienne’s balcony.

“Oh, dear. We must get the servants to clean that up.”

“Sera just fell,” you scream. “Off the roof.”

“Yes? Do be a dear and make sure she didn’t hit anyone on the way down. You know how big her mustache energy is.”

“Her…” before you can even say anything, a shiny mustache sprouts around Vivienne’s lips.

“Is something the matter,” she asks, twirling her new mustache. “Hurry along.”

You’re falling. Did Vivienne push you off the balcony? You look up, only to find sky and puffy clouds. As you hit the ground, the barn morphs into existence. Blackwall hammers at a wooden bear.

“Oh, thank the Maker.” You rush over to Blackwall and grab him by the shoulders. “Everyone is growing mustaches, and no one knows how to properly take care of them.”

Blackwall turns around and…it’s not Blackwall at all, it’s Cole. It’s Cole with a wiry fucking mustache, of course.

“He dreams about the face. Hairy. Needy. And they’re afraid. They should be.”

Heat rises within your cheeks, and you let go of Cole. You can never understand what the thing says. “Your moustache needs a lot of work.”

“Does it?”

You jump as Blackwall stands in the corner of the barn, manically laughing and gripping his moustache, which reaches the ground. “There can only be one.” He lunges forward, his moustache flowing behind him like a dark cloak.

“You don’t belong here,” Cole says, looking into your eyes.

You run. Cole has obviously possessed Blackwall somehow, and you really can’t stand two moustached demons in the same room.

You clutch your chest as you make it out of the Skyhold gates. Dorian, with his incredibly beautiful and normal Dorian moustache, rides in on a stallion and halts his horse next to you.

“Inquisitor, watch out,” he yells, zapping something behind you.

You turn around, only to see black scorch marks across the stone and white petals blown around by the wind.

“You do flower magic now?”

Dorian laughs. “Are you mad? It’s spring, obviously.”

Weeds grow in the cracks of the bridge and takes it over.  You aren’t at Skyhold anymore. You’re at your childhood neighbor’s farm, the one you’d sneak off to so you could nap. The grass tickles your now bare feet. The hills are just as beautiful as you remember them, with purple wild flowers dotting the distance.

“Well, hop on. We have placed to be.”

Dorian holds out his hand. Your arm tingles as you grab his hand and hop on. Dorian places the reigns in your hands and grips your waist. You take a deep breath and smell…you don’t even know. It must be some sort of Tevinter perfume, but it smells glorious alongside the smell of horses, wildflowers, and leather. Maker, what are you thinking?

Dorian shifts behind you. “Are we going to head out, Inquisitor?”

“Oh, yes.” You click your tongue. “You know, Dorian…you’re going to have to tell me your moustache secrets.”

“You’ll have to take me to dinner first.”

“Gl…”

**HONK HONK HONK**

You rub your eyes and shift on the hay. Leliana towers over you while holding a goose.

“Maker, is this a dream?”

“No, it’s a goose. Get up.”


End file.
